


Old Habits Die Hard

by SillyRomantic4Ever



Category: The Last Ship (TV)
Genre: F/M, Grief/Mourning, I Made Myself Cry, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I couldn't help myself, Rachel Scott Deserved Better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 14:33:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7442806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SillyRomantic4Ever/pseuds/SillyRomantic4Ever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Captain Tom Chandler surveyed the deck of the Nathan James, his gaze immediately landed on the helicopter bay, the exact same one that she had used. Where her lab had once occupied.</p><p>Rachel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chandler

**Author's Note:**

> Anyone else still mourning (or angry about) the death of Dr. Rachel Scott? I sure am. Anyone else wishing we could get into Captain Chandler's head to see how he's dealing with her death? I am. So, I couldn't help myself and wrote this fic, hoping to come to grips that I won't be seeing the good doctor on the show again. I have this set after Season 3, Episode 2 (right after Chandler finally arrives on the Nathan James). When he looked around his ship, I immediately thought of how everything seemed to be the same yet wasn't. I wanted him to look or go to the helo/helicopter bay where Rachel worked in Seasons 1-2 (I hope I'm spelling that first word right).
> 
> I'm frustrated that we, the fans, haven't been given the proper time to mourn Rachel's death. I mean, for 9-10 long months, there were a lot of us who believed that she'd survive her gunshot wound. The writers/producers dangled that in front of us only to dunk a cold bucket of water on us. What they should've done was end Season 2 with the characters (more preferably, Chandler) finding Rachel then saying that she's gone. At least we'd have 9-10 months getting used to the idea that she wouldn't be coming back. I know the characters had 5-6 months of mourning Rachel, but we only had 60 seconds before getting plunged into the plot! Not fair at all.
> 
> I know some people are angry that we didn't get to see a funeral, but the third season does take place 5-6 months after Season 2. I would love to see some flashbacks though, of her funeral or of how the crew handled her death or of how hard Chandler took it. I think that would help give some closure about Rachel.
> 
> Okay, enough of me venting. Here's the story. I'm thinking of breaking it up into three small chapters. Enjoy and please don't hate me. I myself was near tears writing it.
> 
> Also, I don't anything!

As Captain Tom Chandler surveyed the deck of the _Nathan James_ , his gaze immediately landed on the helicopter bay, the exact same one that **_she_** had used. Where **_her_** lab had once occupied. 

 

 ** _Rachel_**.

 

Like it was nearly a year and a half ago, the outside entrance to that section of his ship was sealed shut. Sparing a moment to look around him at the hustle and bustle of the deck, it seemed that nothing had changed. It was almost as if today was just another day of finding food and fuel and protecting **_her_** and her research for a cure.

 

Tom took a step towards the helo bay but stopped himself from going any further.

 

No, Rachel wouldn’t be there. If he ordered for the entrance to be opened, he wouldn’t see her working in her makeshift lab, wearing either a hazmat suit or her normal wardrobe of jeans and a sweater. She wouldn’t be analyzing data on her laptop. He wouldn’t see her send him a curious look over her shoulder, her hazel eyes asking him if she was needed somewhere else at the moment. He wouldn’t hear her British accent flow smoothly as she says to him, ‘What can I do for you, Captain Chandler?’

 

He turned around and headed for the bridge before he allowed fantasies and memories wash over him. With every single step away from her—no, not her—just the helo bay, he reminded himself that he’ll never have another chance to hear her voice again. To see her smile. To have the privilege of watching her work behind a microscope. To share with her the joys of rebuilding the country or spreading her cure, her greatest gift to the crew. To the world. To him.

 

Taking in a slow breath, Tom steeled himself for yet another mission. Slattery and his missing crew needed to be found ASAP. The _Nathan James_ needed a captain, needed **_him_**. And he couldn’t afford to have his mind clouded with thoughts of **_her_** , plaguing him as harshly as the day he lost her.

 

He was successful. At least, somewhat successful. During his meeting with his lieutenants, he had been able to keep her safe and sound in the deepest parts of himself. Yet, Rachel somehow found a way to ghostly touch every single decision he made. Since her all-too-soon departure of this world, he had been spreading the cure for **_her_**. He’d gone to China to see if they were hoarding the cure. For **_her_**. He was looking for Slattery and some of his crew for **_her_** , because he knew how close she had become to them.

 

Later that night, his feet habitually guided him down the P-way. His mind was filled with plans concerning the ship’s mission, and before Tom knew it, he was standing right in front of the door that would’ve led him into her lab. His heart pounded in his ears, and he cursed himself for forgetting that Rachel wouldn’t be in there. But he couldn’t help himself from looking inside, just for a small glimpse.

 

After her death, he hadn’t been able to step foot into that room, even when he was told that her lab was in the process of being dismantled. Tom didn’t think he could bear seeing the helo bay transform back into its original function. Watching her equipment being removed would’ve been beyond hard to witness for him. It would’ve felt that any physical evidence of her was being taken away just as roughly as she was taken away from him.

 

_‘Well, I’ll see you when I see you.’_

_‘Be safe. When you get back, find me.’_

 

Before he could change his mind, he opened the door and stepped into the helo bay. The room was exactly as it should be, but all that he saw were clear plastic walls, metal tables, test tubes, microscopes, and plastic cases. He could even feel the cool temperature that she had insisted her lab needed to be set at in order to preserve her samples and data. His jaw tightened as he imagined Rachel in a hazmat suite working behind her microscope.

 

It was so real to him, that he walked deeper in the room.

 

Tom remembered how confused he had been at one point when her vaccine hadn’t worked at first. _‘You brought tea,’_ he had told her then. _‘You said you would’ve brought champagne.’_

 

Then there was the time after the trials finally proved to have been successful.

_‘Can we talk about what I hope is going on in there? We…we have a vaccine.’_

_‘We don’t just have a vaccine,’_ Rachel had said to him. _‘We have the cure.’_

 

There were so many memories here. And she was in all of them. Him telling her that she needed to stay on the _James_ when they reached Gitmo because she was far too valuable to loose. Her injecting the Nicaraguan monkeys with her prototype vaccine. Sharing with the crew the slow process of developing a vaccine. Monitoring the six sailors who had bravely volunteered to test her cure. Hugging her out of pure relief and joy when she said they found the cure.

 

The memories piled up on each other so fast that they blended together in a beautiful blur. Tom was so immersed in them that he didn’t hear a set of footsteps approaching.

 

“Captain?”

 

It was Lieutenant Green.

 

“Excuse me, sir. But Lieutenant Granderson requests your presence on the bridge. She said she wanted to discuss a small detail, sir.”

 

Tom allowed three seconds to pass before answering, “On my way.”


	2. Green

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, here's the second part. It's really small and short, but I thought I'd stretch my wings a bit and switch character perspectives. I've adored Lt. Danny Green throughout the seasons, and I enjoyed going through his head, even though the subject is sad. I just wanted to write about someone else, other than our dear captain, who was feeling the loss of Doctor Scott, kind of like an outside observer, and I chose Green!

As Danny retreated from Dr. Scott’s lab—no—from the helo bay, he felt his stomach sink inside of him. When he discovered that the captain wasn’t in his quarters, he knew exactly where to find him, but Danny had hoped he was wrong. Going in that particular room was all too soon for him personally. He had avoided going in there since the ship went back to sea. The loss of Dr. Scott still hammered him and the crew, but mostly with the captain. Everyone on the _James_ knew that the captain and the doctor had a special bond. Anyone with eyes could’ve seen it. The armored walls of the ship knew it.

 

Danny ducked into an empty room for a moment. He twirled his wedding band with his fingers. Kara had been so sad about Dr. Scott’s death when he told her. She cried in his arms and hadn’t let go for quite some time. Later on, she had admitted that she wanted the lady scientist to be there when their baby arrived, since Kara went to Dr. Scott for check-ups when they were searching for the Ramseys’ submarine.

 

The death of Dr. Scott haunted them all. Although she wasn’t navy, her presence lingered from one part of the _James_ to the other. But the most obvious echo of her death emanated from the captain’s eyes. Danny knew that their commanding officer wasn’t someone who behaved lively or energetic; if anything, he was reserved and able to show warmth to the crew without appearing too soft. But Danny saw how withdrawn the other man had become over the last several months. The captain now seemed to constantly wear a neutral, military mask. His eyes no longer looked as alive like when the _James_ blew up the _Vyerni_ , or when the Immunes’ cult was scattered.

 

Danny sighed. Thinking of how the captain was still mourning Dr. Scott, he knew that he couldn’t bear the thought of putting Kara through that. He missed her and their little boy so much that being separated from them was eating him up inside. He kissed his wedding band, promising that he’ll do everything in his power to get back to St. Louis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The third chapter's somewhat longer and probably my favorite. I'll update either later on today or tomorrow. Hope my story's enjoyable to anyone who's a fan of "The Last Ship." We need more fics out there!


	3. Chandler

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the last part; it's somewhat longer than the other two. I pretty much made myself cry because this is still a very tender subject for me. While writing this story, I was listening to Hans Zimmer's "Tennessee" from "Pearl Harbor." This 4 minute-ish score helped get me into a mournful mood. It's beautiful yet sorrowful at the same time. I highly recommend listening to it.

Tom knew that he was needed, that he was requested on the bridge. But he couldn’t tear himself away just yet. This room, **_her_** room, felt more like home to him than his personal quarters. They spent so much time in here.

 

Guilt started pumping into him, like it always did whenever he thought of Rachel. He should’ve escorted her back to her room that night. That would’ve been the gentlemanly thing to do. Or he could’ve invited her in, for a farewell drink. Or maybe for something less gentlemanly. She was still a valuable person and shouldn’t have been left alone.

 

From the first moment Tom met her in Norfolk he was assigned to protect her. It was his duty, even though he had no idea at the time. But once he did, he made sure she was out of harm’s way. Of course, he disapproved that she left the ship when they were at Gitmo. And he hated that Slattery had sent her on the _Vyerni_ when he and Tex were captured by the Russians. Then there was the time he left her in Baltimore when it was discovered that Granderson wasn’t who she said she was.

 

Yet after that, Rachel was always safe. She never stepped off the _Nathan James_ without the proper protection, without him making sure that she wasn’t in any danger.

 

He had to admit that she got under his skin. Despite her always insisting how important her research was, Tom found her wit and British accent charming. He was drawn to her like a magnet, but he made sure to guard himself. He had been married then and refused to break his vows.

 

But that pull never went away. Their arguments and disagreements were dangerous because he found her very attractive whenever she grew angry and passionate. The kiss on the _Vyerni_ , when she passed him a note and razor, didn’t help matters. Neither did their hug after the trials, but that was different, he always told himself; it was two teammates rejoicing in a major success. Then there was the time when she injected him with the cure, in his quarters, alone. He couldn’t help but fix his eyes on her as she prepared the syringe. Rachel was so lovely in that moment.

 

Sure, they had bumps in their partnership in the beginning; every one does. Their friendship had some dips when Tom insisted they hunt down the Ramseys’ submarine instead of taking her to a Florida lab. After what the Ramseys had done to the other science facilities, he was boiling with anger and approaching the line of revenge…until Rachel reminded him that he wasn’t sticking to their original mission. She knew just what to say to get through to him.

 

Right when he thought they were in a good place, she killed Sorenson. Even though he himself wanted to wring the man’s neck, he knew that wasn’t the answer. The crew was divided by what she did. Some backed Rachel up, saying her actions were justified, while others, like Tom, saw the injustice in the matter. His conversation with her, which ended up turning into a loud disagreement, tore him up inside.

 

 _‘Is this what you really want?’_ Her voice asked, nearing exasperation.

_‘It’s never about what I want.’_

 

What Tom had wanted was to sweep the entire situation under the rug. To pull her against him so he could apologize for goading her into working with Sorenson. To tell her that all he wanted to do was to protect her, like he always did.

 

Their separation felt as difficult and painful as the times he and Darien had bumps in their marriage. But he hid his discomfort from Rachel, donned a cold mask, even though he could see the hurt in her hazel eyes.

 

When Slattery took some of the crew, including her, to shore for safety reasons before the _James_ ’ fight with the Ramseys’ submarine, Tom watched her leave, looking back at him with worry written all over her face. For a moment he thought he’d mend the broken bridge between them, yet he couldn’t do it.

 

It wasn’t until they reached St. Louis did he finally allow Rachel back into his good graces. She was so breath-taking, sharing the cure with the people. And in that black dress at the President’s ball. She looked divine and still would’ve looked beautiful if she **_did_** wear jeans and a sweater; Tom wasn’t kidding when he told her that she could’ve pulled it off.

 

Again, the guilt pulsed throughout him. He let her go that night, their bond stronger than ever as she walked away, and that was the last time he saw her alive. When Darien fell to the clutches of the Red Flu, half of his heart had been ripped out of him. But when Rachel was murdered, Tom felt as if a piece of his soul died that night, too.

 

His partner in this crusade to save the world was gone.

 

His compatriot against the Russians and the Immunes had fallen.

 

His friend in times of trouble was dead.

 

The woman who had somehow crept into his heart at such a fast pace, in such a quiet way, was taken from him. Before he could grasp how important she was to him. Before they were given a chance to allow their bond to grow. Before they could be something together. Something stronger. Beautiful. Real.

 

With a heaviness in his heart, a feeling he could never seem to shake, Tom exited her room—no, the helo bay. He had to return to the land of the living. His crew needed him, and he shouldn’t be here practically drowning in memories of her.

 

As he strode towards the bridge, passing some of his crew, he remembered how good of a team he and Rachel were. Together, they had saved the world. But they’re not a team anymore.

 

Now, Tom found himself working alone. Because of Rachel’s death, the guardianship of the world had been transferred completely onto his shoulders. He never thought he’d do it by himself. He always thought she’d be there with him, sharing the load, a task he would’ve felt to be an honor.

 

No longer a co-caretaker for their sick planet, Tom had been charged to be a godfather to this new world.

 

Without her.

 

Without **_Rachel_**.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this story has indeed been like therapy for me (some of my family say I take my shows too seriously, but I can't help myself!). I'm looking forward to seeing tonight's next episode of "The Last Ship." Yes, it feels as if there's a deep hole missing in Season 3 (aka Rachel Scott), but I got to hand it to the writers/producers/directors: "The Last Ship" hasn't lost its edge. It still has the inspirational, energetic, military aura it had when I watched Season 1. Every episode still flies by. I guess that's the reason why I'm still watching it. Thanks again for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment to tell me what you think and send "Kudos". And be gentle, too! This is my first "The Last Ship" fic, and I hope I got the characters right. Thanks for reading! I'll post the next chapter up in a few hours!


End file.
